


Fortune

by Fire_Bear



Series: PrUK Week 2017 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Breaking The Rules, Day 2, M/M, Memory Loss, Modern Era, Pruk Week 2017, Self-Sacrifice, Sort of Death?, Worship, but not really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: As the god of Misfortune, Arthur isn't wanted around - by either his siblings or the humans. So when someone prays to him for the first time in a while, Arthur is curious to find out who it is. Little does he know that he's going down a path that could lead to his and his follower's destruction.





	Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> There's mentions of people in the hospital in here, too, but I'm not sure if I should tag it. I don't actually say why they're there because I wasn't entirely sure what specific thing they would have.

Though the gods were out of fashion, they still answered people's prayers. For instance, if someone prayed to their 'one god', the gods would strive to answer every part of it. The god of war would make the tide turn in the worshipper's favour while the goddess of victory would use her powers to oppose him in the name of another worshipper. The god and goddess of love would swoop down to help those who yearned for someone to share their life with. Messenger gods flitted between gods and humans, bringing a steady stream of prayers to each and every god.

Except for one, who stayed far from his fellow gods, alone and (mostly) sulking.

Arthur pursed his lips as he watched a human praying over a handful of dice. He wasn't praying to _him_ ; he was praying to his sister who would get to go down and spread enough good luck for him to win his game at least once or twice. Of course, it would also draw Arthur from his comfortable cloud in order to balance the world's luck. But no-one would ever pray to Arthur, not any more. Humans only ever wished for good luck.

They didn't want him coming down and spreading his bad luck.

Sighing, Arthur stood and, upon touching the window to the Earth, he travelled down to there. As he moved through the very fabric of reality, his clothing changed. When in the Heavens, he wore a greying toga, accessorising with a set of shimmering wings which made him look like a cross between an angel and a fairy. However, once on Earth, he would have to blend in lest the humans took interest. So, once he reached the casino he was about to bring a touch of bad luck to, he had changed into a dark green hoodie and a pair of jeans, as nondescript as possible.

Not that anyone ever took any notice of him, anyway.

As soon as he touched down, some poor man tripped over the leg of a table and lost half his winnings under the slot machines. The howl of despair brought Arthur happiness for a moment, his lips twitching up into a smile. But the amount of good luck which was saturating this place was getting to him and he knew he had to get to work.

Turning away from the scrabbling human at his feet, Arthur began to walk along a row of slot machines. As he went, he subtly touched any one in use and revelled in the feeling of the machines breaking just enough to keep the people losing. From there, he went to the roulette where he touched a cocky human who was getting on his nerves the longer he watched. The black jack table was where he made the deck reshuffle mid-game and throw off the woman counting cards. He shifted the weight of the dice at the craps table and made sure that it was a little too hot at the poker table so that people sweated and mistaken for having a case of the nerves.

Finally, the good luck lowered to an acceptable level and his job was done. With a sigh, he grabbed a glass from a passing waiter (who would later be yelled at for not bringing the right drinks) and poured it down his throat in one gulp. He watched the humans scurrying around for a bit, smiling whenever someone got too close to him and something unlucky happened.

Just as he had decided it was time to go back to his solitary cloud, he heard something he had never heard for a while.

A prayer.

Gasping, Arthur retreated into the shadow of a pillar and put his hands over his ears. When gods were on Earth, their prayers came to them directly instead of from the messenger gods to save the messengers time. However, they were notoriously difficult to hear over all the human's thoughts which were constantly transmitted to them as a background noise. So he pressed his hands more firmly against his ears to shut everything else out and listened to the only prayer he had gotten in the last millennia.

"Please," said a voice with a different accent to the humans currently around Arthur. "I don't want them to die or anything but these jerks" – Arthur suddenly got an image of two leering, muscled boys, looming over him – "are really annoying me. They're bullies – not just to me but a lot of other people, too. I heard them talking about an upcoming Football game and they're desperate to be in it. Please, let something happen to them. Just a bit of bad luck or something which'll mean they can't go."

Shocked at the sudden plea, Arthur immediately produced his wings and flew through reality and towards the homes of the two boys mentioned. As he flew, he looked down at the Earth to see where he was going. It turned out that the boys mentioned lived in a small town somewhere close to the city full of casinos. Arthur wasn't sure where exactly he was but he did know that it was a rather large... country, he believed the humans called them.

Upon reaching the first boy's house, he flitted into the boy's room. Boy #1 was currently in a shower so he looked around the room and found that he had abandoned several school books on his bedside table in a haphazard pile. Grinning, Arthur blew on them and his breath made them wobble and a fair amount slid off to land right in front of the door to the en suite bathroom. Then he walked through the wall and waited for the boy to turn off the shower. Once he stepped out, heading towards his room content in the knowledge that no-one was around and completely naked, Arthur made a motion as if he was flicking him and water dripped into his eyes. As the boy opened the door, he rubbed at his hair with the towel, obstructing his view.

Arthur waited for the yell of surprise and pain before he left for Boy #2.

As it transpired, Boy #2 was driving his car, a girl in the passenger seat. Arthur reined in his powers, making sure a major crash was averted; the girl wasn't included in the prayer, after all. Besides, he didn't want to _kill_ anyone, not today when he'd been so happy to receive a prayer. Instead, he flicked a wrist and a cat wandered into the road. The girl cried out, the boy hit the brakes, the car swerved – and Arthur waited until he heard the crack of bone in someone's wrist before leaving the car.

While he moved through the metal, he changed again, returning to his horrid toga and wings. He flew high and gazed across the town, searching, searching. Finally, he felt it: the residual energy from the prayer and he headed straight for it, eager to see who had called on him.

Whoever had called lived in a rather large house in the suburbs of the town. They were in one of the rooms which overlooked their dry garden and Arthur stopped outside their window, the sun setting behind him as he tried to spot his worshipper. Inside, a teenage boy sat at his desk, back to the window. His hair was either dyed white or naturally so. He was tapping a pencil on his desk, thinking or daydreaming, Arthur didn't know.

Curious, Arthur let himself drift through the wall and into the bedroom. With the layout of the room, the desk was at the end of the boy's bed, pushed against the wall so he didn't have any distractions – and, judging from the multiple entertainment boxes and large television, that seemed likely. Arthur alighted on his bed and leaned on the end of it, peering at the boy.

His eyes were red from crying. However, it seemed that they were naturally a little pink to begin with. The boy rubbed at an eye as he stared down at... ah, some sort of essay he was supposed to be writing. Arthur squinted at it and realised that it was a report on some sort of experiment, judging from the notes spread across the mess on the desk. Suddenly sighing, the boy threw down his pencil and ran his hand through his hair. Arthur watched him rub at his face before suddenly grabbing the pencil again and writing a word. Growling at something, he scribbled it out in anger before drawing another piece of paper closer. He paused then and slumped, clearly preoccupied.

To find out why, Arthur delved into his thoughts and discovered that the boy was thinking of the bullies, remembering incidents where they had openly mocked him or hit him and imagining how much worse it could become. Quickly, Arthur reined his powers in once again so the poor kid didn't get bullied by someone else now his tormentors were out of action for a while. He glanced at the boy's work and knew that he wouldn't be able to finish it with his thoughts as they were. For a moment, Arthur was torn between leaving him alone or helping his only worshipper.

Remembering what awaited him in the Heavens, he decided on the latter.

So, against all the gods believed was the correct way to conduct themselves in this day and age, Arthur made himself visible to humans. The boy didn't notice at first, too busy groaning at his brain's lack of cooperation. Arthur waited. The boy blinked and turned his head to look straight at Arthur. Looking back, Arthur waited a little more.

With a cry, the boy tried to simultaneously leap from his chair and scramble backwards. All he managed to do, however, was tip the rolling chair over and land, hard on his side. Arthur winced in sympathy and wondered if it was his doing or if that would have happened with any god. Shaking his head, he stood to offer to help the boy up but was met with fear and revulsion.

"Wh-? Wha-? Who are you?!" the boy exclaimed. "How did you get in here?!" He paused and seemed to really look at Arthur. "And... what's with the eyebrows?"

Surprised at the comment, Arthur's hands instinctively flew to them. He smoothed them down and frowned. Just his luck to get someone who would mock him. "What's wrong with them?" he demanded, scowling at the boy.

Grimacing, the boy raised his hands. "Nothing!" he said, quickly. "Just... Who _are_ you?"

"Ah." Arthur smiled as he reminded himself that he was speaking to his only worshipper. " _I_ am Arthur, the god of bad fortune. Or bad luck."

After staring for a moment, the boy raised his hands to his face and rubbed at it. "Oh, no," he groaned. "I've fallen asleep, haven't I?"

"No," Arthur assured him. "I heard your prayer earlier-"

The boy suddenly moved, scrambling to his feet and wincing in pain. He looked puzzled for a moment before he looked back to Arthur. "Really? Then shouldn't you be with Jack and Todd? Y'know, giving _them_ bad luck and not me."

"That has already been done. Neither of them will be going to that game."

"Seriously?" the boy asked, incredulous. When Arthur nodded, he turned to his desk and grabbed his... portable calling device? Arthur forgot what they were called. After tapping at the transparent bit on the front, he lifted it to his ear and waited. Arthur watched him, intrigued. What could he be doing when his god sat before him? Finally, he spoke. "Hey, Nina. Sorry to bother you... Yeah, I know. I was actually calling to ask if you know about any accidents that happened tonight? My..." He glanced at Arthur before looking back to his desk. "My friend said he heard something had happened to some kids from school..." There was a short pause. "Sure." Another pause, this one longer, causing Arthur to get agitated. He was just about to erase this idiot's memory and fly off when he spoke once more. "Oh. Okay, thanks. That's a shame. I was hoping it was just a mistake... Yeah, I'll come see him at the weekend. Got a lot of schoolwork and having trouble with it. Yeah, see you later."

"Well?" asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow once the boy had turned back to him.

"You're... You really... You're _real_?!" The boy set the device down and stepped towards Arthur, hand lifting.

"Don't touch me!" Arthur snapped. "You will become the unluckiest person in the world for the rest of your life. Which wouldn't be very long if my brother has anything to do with it..."

"Right," said the boy, obediently lowering it and only just catching himself from trying to sit on the still-overturned chair. He lifted it up and sank into it, the chair squeaking to fill the silence. "And your brother is...?"

"Ivan. Or the god of Death. He's nice enough to us, of course, but he never shows mercy to humans who think they can best him. Have you ever heard of Orpheus? Yeah, he wasn't happy with _him_."

"That's the guy that looked back to see his wife, right?"

"And lost her forever – or, at least, until Ivan got bored of keeping them apart and sent them to their appropriate places."

The boy shuddered. "And this is... this is all real?"

"Yes," Arthur confirmed. "Now, as I was trying to say earlier, you are the first person to pray to me in... a very long time." Arthur sighed and slumped a little on the bed, clasping his hands. "I wanted to see who was calling upon me?"

"Shouldn't you already know?" asked the boy. "You know, since you're some all powerful god?"

"I was on Earth when you called to me. If I had been in the Heavens, I would have known. But, as such... And I was curious. So," Arthur said, straightening up and trying to look down his nose at Gilbert. "What is your name, mortal?"

Biting his lip, the boy seemed to be trying to contain his mirth. Then he bowed his head slightly and said, "Gilbert. My name's Gilbert." He paused, looking Arthur up and down. "You can call me Gil."

* * *

Arthur glared at the laptop as yet another virus popped up, obscuring the browser. He sighed and sat back in the chair, running a hand through his hair. It looked as though he was never going to get the hang of this 'Facebook' thing. Clearly his bad fortune, no matter how much he tamped down on it, was incompatible with recent technology. It was a wonder he and Gil could watch 'movies' without the 'PS4' setting on fire.

He got up from where he sat and made his way to Gil's bed where he collapsed on top of it, letting his wings spread out beneath him. That always made his only follower pause and stare. Arthur knew well what he thought of when he returned to his dorm room – and it was something Arthur found himself eager to encourage. After wriggling a little to make himself more comfortable (and to make his toga ride up entincingly), Arthur stilled and waited.

Four years had passed since Gil started praying to him. Once Gil had introduced himself, Arthur had thanked him, reminded him of his work and flew off. But, the very next day, Gil prayed to him, to thank him. He even asked if Arthur wanted anything to be 'sacrificed' to him. Curious, Arthur had returned to him and they had run through items Arthur might want. They eventually settled on tea and, whenever Gil prayed, he would set aside a box of tea for Arthur to come collect.

At first, Arthur thought he wouldn't be prayed to afterwards – for humans' memories were fickle and he knew Gil would forget about him eventually. However, Gilbert was albino and had recently moved to what he called 'the States' from 'Germany'. The bullying prompted him to pray, willing the bullies to stop, to let him get through school in peace. Arthur was happy to oblige; not just because of the tea but because he genuinely liked Gil. A couple of times, towards the beginning, Arthur would watch over him, sending down bad luck to those around him who would make his day horrid. But, whenever he went down for his tea, Gil would stop him to talk, to find out what he didn't know about humans and their society and introducing him to new concepts and technology.

The god began to spend all his free time with Gil. He was the one person to believe in him: none of the other gods believed him to be useful and none of them had bothered to stop him. Even though Arthur knew that he was making an imbalance of luck on Earth as he protected Gil as much as he could from the world. Arthur wanted to make him happy and had since followed him to his college.

Suddenly, the door banged opened and Arthur jolted from his reminiscence in surprise. Worried, he sat up to see Gil, his cheeks damp, his expression furious. Gil's gaze locked on his and Arthur flinched, confused as to what had caused the sudden animosity.

"Arthur," Gil growled.

"What? What is it?" asked Arthur. Had he inadvertently made Gil's rent go up in some convoluted series of events? Was the bath leaking? That had happened before and he would have to leave so everything could be fixed.

"Old Fritz collapsed today," Gil snapped, striding forward. "You told me he'd be fine."

With a grimace, Arthur rose from the bed and dodged away from the range of Gil's fists. He couldn't let Gil touch him. "He should be fine!" Arthur exclaimed. "I begged my sister to give him a lot of luck – nothing's changed!"

That made Gil stop. "Then that means..." He turned his back on Arthur and hugged himself. Arthur ached to be able to hug him but he waited patiently instead. "It's my fault, isn't it?" Gil said.

"What?" asked Arthur, quite lost now.

"For hanging around you!" Gil cried out, turning to glare at him. Arthur could see that his eyes were shimmering with tears.

"It can't be," Arthur insisted. "I never let any of my bad luck touch you."

"That doesn't change the fact that I've been with you every day for years – it's probably affected _everything_."

Arthur bit his lip and made a hard decision. "Gil... Old Fritz is _Old_ for a reason. It's likely that his time is at an en-"

"No!" The tears began to fall and Gil collapsed into his chair. "That can't be right. He was getting better. He'll... He'll be all right" – he paused and looked up at Arthur, angry glare piercing Arthur's very being – "as long as you stay away from me."

"You-" Arthur began, aghast.

"I mean it! Stay away from me!"

Realising that he wouldn't be able to talk to Gil right now, Arthur nodded once. He turned to go and, as he did so, he thought he saw Gil's eyes widen; since he'd once promised Gil never to look at his thoughts, Arthur could only guess that he hadn't expected Arthur to agree. With a deep breath of Earth air, Arthur set his wings aflutter and expertly bent the reality around them. He shot through the building and upwards, heading towards the Heavens. They had had arguments before but Gil had never looked so distraught and Arthur usually stayed on Earth, waiting for him to pray to him.

Some days, he could never bring himself to part ways with Gil, merely fading from his perceptions.

Which was why Arthur was heading, not to his own cloud, but to his brother's cloud. If he could get past the guard sunflowers, he could look for Fritz's timer and turn it over. He would likely outlive his children but at least he would be there for Gil. Then he could prove to Gil that he could take care of his followers, could take care of Gil as Gil was taking care of him with his prayers.

Arthur wondered when he had begun to think of Gil so reverentially.

* * *

Of course, his brother's sunflowers caught him, despite Arthur sending his bad luck at them. It had built up from all the time he spent with Gil and it should have been almost enough for them to die upon his approach: he was rather surprised when the smaller ones wrapped vines around his ankles while the bigger ones danced in a breeze he couldn't feel. Panicking, he tried to pull himself free before resorting to drawing the hilt of his broken sword. Before he could touch them with the concentrated bad luck, Ivan had turned up.

Now, after being pulled free without a word, Arthur stumbled forward as Ivan released him. They were on the largest cloud of their Heavens, this one belonging to Alfred, the god of the Sun and the king of the gods, surrounded by the intricately carved clouds shaped as pillars or statues which constantly shifted as the sun did. Arthur thought it was rather obnoxious; he didn't have _anything_ on _his_ cloud. His sister was also present, her arms folded across her chest. Worried, Arthur kept his head down, trying to keep himself from being blinded by the light which radiated from Alfred.

"What is this, Brother Ivan?" Alfred asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"I found Arthur in my sunflowers, Brother Alfred," Ivan replied, gliding away from Arthur to stand beside Elizaveta.

Trying to appear petulant, Arthur said, "I was only trying to pay you a surprise visit."

"Tell the truth, Arthur," said Elizaveta with sad eyes. Arthur couldn't understand what was making her so upset.

"It is technically true, Sister," Arthur replied.

"You were looking for this?" Ivan produced, from nowhere, an hourglass which had far more sand on the bottom than at the top. Arthur instantly knew whose it was and he glanced from Ivan to Alfred.

Pursing his lips, Alfred considered them all. "You know that there are... rules, Arthur."

Eyes widening, Arthur stepped forward. "I know. I do know. But..."

"No buts. Who is the mortal which tempts you so?"

"Nobody is involved in this," Arthur insisted.

"Then why were you attempt-"

"I wasn't!" Arthur exclaimed, taking another step. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"

"Really?" said Alfred, looking sad as well. He turned to Elizaveta. "Bring Gilbert Beilschmidt here."

"What?! No!" Arthur turned and rushed at Elizaveta but he was too late. She disappeared and, an instant later, reappeared with Gil's elbow firmly in her grasp. "Gil!" Arthur cried as soon as he spotted his surprised and terrified face.

"Artie?" said Gil, slowly. His expression morphed into relief before quickly becoming angry. "What the hell's going on? I told you to leave me alone!"

"Arthur has committed a terrible transgression in your name, Gilbert," Alfred explained. "For that, he must be punished."

"What?" said Gilbert at the same time as Arthur spoke up to say, "I _said_ , nobody has anything to do with _anything_ I-"

Ivan chose that moment to speak up, moving towards Gil and towering over him. As any mortal being did, Gil instinctively knew who Ivan was and shrank back, eyes wide. "Do you know whose soul this belongs to?" He held out the hourglass, letting Gil examine it.

After tentatively squinting at it, Gil gasped. "Old Fritz!"

"Exactly," said Ivan. "And Arthur was attempting to steal it."

Gil met Arthur's gaze. Arthur tried to convey everything he wanted to say to him: an apology; a reassurance; words he should never say. Biting his lip, Gil turned back to Ivan. "Was he?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes," said Ivan. "For you. Did you ask him to?"

"No," Gil replied, quickly.

"Did you say something which would imply that he should?" asked Alfred.

"I don't think so."

"Then Arthur came to this action on his own," Alfred declared. "And he will be punished, in a way. But there is something else to note. Arthur, your toga..."

"What about it?" Arthur asked distractedly as his heart sank. He was more focussed on his previous comment. There were only two ways to punish a god: strip them of their powers and lock them away for a millennia or to kill them outright and replace them with another. Arthur would not mind dying but the idea of being unable to see Gil fulfilling his life while he was locked away would be a torture he didn't want to endure.

"Have you not noticed?" Alfred asked, a smile beginning to grow. "Look."

Without thinking, Arthur obeyed, looking down. His eyes widened when he realised what he was looking at: his toga was now white. And, now that he thought about it, he had once worn black, had he not? He stared down at himself, confused.

"It is time," said Alfred, capturing Arthur's attention again.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, becoming more and more alarmed – something a god should never be.

But Alfred ignored him and turned to Gil. "There is no way to erase all of your memories: your life is now too entwined with your experiences with Arthur. Only death will solve the problem of your knowledge of the gods."

"No!" shouted Arthur, rushing towards Gil. A blinding light knocked him backwards and he ended up sprawled on the floor. He turned his gaze to Alfred's, pleading with his eyes even as he opened his mouth again. "Please don't kill him! It's not his fault!"

Alfred ignored him. "There is another way, of course. Arthur's time will come to an end and his duties will need to be undertaken by another. If you will take this on, we will remove you from your human life. Your memories of that life will fade with time."

Gil looked conflicted, glancing towards Arthur before turning towards Alfred fully. Arthur knew then that he would agree to one of the two, that he would not fight his siblings. Bowing his head in despair, Arthur listened to Gil speak. "You can just do that?" he asked, doubtful.

"I am Alfred, king of the gods," declared the Sun god. "I can do just about anything. Or order someone to do it. Your sister, Elizaveta, waits for you as does Brother Ivan."

" _My_ sister?"

Chuckling, Alfred rose and began to descend the stairs from his throne. "Yes. Make your decision."

Hesitating, Gil shot Arthur one last look. "If I do this, will you save my grandfather?"

"Of course," said Alfred, gesturing at Ivan. Shocked, Arthur watched Ivan pass his hand over Fritz's timepiece. It shrank as he moved but, when he revealed it once more, there was far more sand in the top bulb than the bottom.

"He will still die eventually," Ivan warned Gil.

"As long as he gets to live a little longer," Gil said with a relieved sigh.

"Then you accept? You will become the god of Misfortune?" Alfred said, suddenly standing before Gil.

Flinching, Gil stepped back. Then he swallowed, took a breath and nodded. "Yes. I'll become... Arthur's replacement... But what will happen to him?"

"The same as before," Alfred replied. He raised a finger and pressed it against Gil's forehead. When he drew away, a spot on the human's forehead glowed, slowly spreading. "You may say your goodbyes."

Arthur watched as Gil nodded and walked towards him. He scrambled around and knelt up, staring up at Gil with tears in his eyes. When had he ever cried, he wondered. Gods didn't cry unless they were making or destroying something on Earth. Gil drew close – too close. Arthur leaned away, trying to keep him from touching him, from gaining immensely bad luck, from gaining his powers.

"You shouldn't have done that," he whispered when Gil stopped.

Gil looked pained. "I couldn't do nothing."

"Fritz is still going to die, Gil. You can't stop it."

With a sad smile, Gil leant down, reaching out to stroke Arthur's hair. "I know. But I want him to live as long as he can." He sighed: he sounded so weighed down that Arthur instinctively caught hold of his hand, clutching it tightly. Gil's smile became a little bigger and he squeezed back. "I'll make sure to do a good job," he promised.

And Arthur felt his godly powers leave him, transferring into Gil. He watched as Gil's hair became duller, his eyes lost their sheen and his clothes transformed into a black toga, as dark as midnight. Wings sprouted from his back; large, black, feathery things.

That was the last thing Arthur saw before the light from the sun blinded him.

* * *

Arthur flinched as something fluttered to the ground, right in front of his face. Blinking, he peered down at where he was about to step and noted a pure, black feather lying on the pavement. Curious, he crouched down and picked it up, his schoolbag skewing his balance so he had to steady himself with a hand on the ground. He picked it up, carefully, and stared at it, wondering what kind of bird it came from. When he looked up, however, he found grey clouds encroaching on the sun. There were no birds.

Looking back down at the feather, he frowned. It reminded him of the dream he had had the night before. There had been something about someone as bright as the sun. And someone else as dull as the rainy day it now was – but far more beautiful. Whatever the dream had been about, it made his heart ache to recall it and he bit his lip before he made a noise.

Shaking away the feeling, he slipped the feather into his pocket and got up to continue on his way.

Once he'd rounded the corner, Arthur stared up at the hospital. Would his mother feel up to his visit today? He hoped so: he was the only one of their family who was close by and could find the time to visit her. She'd be out soon, of course, or so he told himself.

Taking a fortifying breath, he strode up the steps to the front doors. He was so busy mentally listing what he wanted to tell his mum that he nearly walked into someone. Gasping, he stepped back and out of their way. "Sorry!" he exclaimed as he looked up.

"Not to worry," said the old man. Arthur immediately recognised him from his long, white hair, tied back with his usual black ribbon.

"Ah, Frederich!" said Arthur, surprised. "Are you being discharged?"

Frederich chuckled. "I'm afraid not," he replied. "I have an important event to go to today. I've to come straight back here once it's finished."

"Oh." Arthur took in Frederich's white suit. "Is it a wedding?"

His smile dropping slightly, Frederich shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Walk with me?"

"Sure," said Arthur following Frederich outside. A taxi was waiting for him and a nurse was talking to the driver, probably instructing him on the safe passage of his passenger.

"I'm going to my grandson's funeral," Frederich told him.

"Oh," Arthur repeated. "I'm... I'm sorry?"

"It's okay. I'm sure he wouldn't want anyone to mourn him. You know, he's one of those people who would say that people should celebrate his life."

"Ah. So that's why you're wearing white?"

Frederich grinned – an overly familiar sight – and nodded. "I'm sure his parents will be livid with me but I dearly love my grandson. He was so upset to hear about my collapse. It's a shame he won't know that I'm back on my feet."

They reached the taxi and the nurse moved out of the way with a strained smile, almost slipping on a puddle from the earlier rainfall. "Would I have known him?" asked Arthur as Frederich prepared to get into the taxi, Arthur hovering to help him if necessary.

"Oh, no. He's at college. A few years older than you. Though he did go to your school."

Something tugged at Arthur's heart as he watched Frederich settle and he shut the door for him. Perhaps it was sympathy for Frederich who had often seemed lonely in the ward – he must have been waiting for his grandson to find the time to visit. Unable to merely leave, he waited till Frederich had opened the window to say his goodbyes and leaned in, hands gripping the car to keep himself from toppling over. "What's his name? Maybe I can go visit his grave to pay my respects."

Smiling, Frederich rested a hand atop one of Arthur's and gave it a squeeze. "His name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

**Author's Note:**

> Gil’s human body died in a... well, a stroke of bad luck. A car crashed into a shop - everyone else was all right and, had he been a few seconds earlier or later, he’d have survived, too. But, as it was, he was walking in front of it when it happened.
> 
> At least, that’s what the humans think.
> 
> This was supposed to have a happy ending where they both became gods because Arthur’s bad luck accidentally killed Gil and Alfred was nicer. But then this happened.


End file.
